


The End of all Things

by tahirire



Series: Spirit 'Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Spirit 'Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-21
Updated: 2008-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahirire/pseuds/tahirire





	The End of all Things

“Dean, I mean it, that’s not funny. We’re gonna get pulled over!”

 _Aw, come on, grow a pair. It’s fun. Besides, if we get pulled over, you can just tell them my baby’s the new K.I.T.T. prototype._

“K.I.T.T. is a Firebird, Dean.”

 _Well, they quit making those._

“They quit making these, too! Now seriously, knock it off!”

 _Fine, geez, you_ really have no sense of humor.” Dean griped, his body stutter-flashing into view.

Sam leaned back into the leather, finally relaxing after a particularly long stretch of road in which Dean had decided it was more fun to be invisible while driving than just about anything he’d ever done before.

Sam didn’t even want to think about the school bus they had passed.

“You hungry? I kind of want a burger,” Dean asked hopefully, tossing a pleading look in Sam’s direction. Sam laughed, shaking his head in utter disbelief.

“Dude. I’m pretty sure you don’t actually _have_ to eat.” Sam made a show of rolling his eyes, hunching down in his chair, and looking pissed. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into letting you drive.”

He turned his head to glare out the window, trying to hide the smile tugging insistently at the corners of his mouth.

The thing was, he could _feel_ Dean’s lighthearted skepticism, and he was fairly sure Dean could feel his surge of fond amusement as well. _Stupid psychic link_ , he thought bitterly.

 _I heard that._ Dean responded instantly, not bothering with actual words.

“Man, shut up.”

“Come on, Sammy. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts.” Dean offered casually, tossing it out there the same way most people would say _hey, stop and smell the roses_. “Once this is over, you don’t get the free Dean Winchester sharing-and-caring pass anymore.” He added fervently, gesturing with an emphatic wave of his hand.

Something clenched in Sam’s chest at the words, but he couldn’t define the actual reason why, not exactly. Standing mind-to-mind with Dean was liberating at times, sure – but he was always careful to keep his distance, knowing Dean would resent any real attempt at an intrusion on his part. There was something to be said for finally being inside Dean’s guard, looking past the high walls his brother kept. But keeping the inside track wasn’t worth the cost of his brother’s life. Getting Dean back for real was the most important thing, and nothing would stop him from seeing that happen.

“Ooh, Hardees,” Dean exclaimed, pulling onto the exit ramp.

Sam didn’t bother pointing out that no matter where they went, no matter how well Dean held it together, people were bound to shy away from him like he was carrying the plague.

There wasn’t any point – nothing stood between Dean and food. Apparently, not even death.

~*~

Sam sat next to Dean in the booth, violating the cardinal rule of one person facing each available exit, but more desperate to block Dean from the curious glances of the other patrons.

Thank God Dean picked Hardees. Sam didn’t know what he’d do if he had to deal with a waitress. With a wicked smirk, Sam thought loudly that food probably wasn’t the only thing death couldn’t keep Dean from indulging in.

Dean tensed, then turned to regard his brother with open disbelief. “Dude. That’s gross. Like I told that vampire chick – I draw the line at necrophilia.”

Sam groaned and dissolved into hysterical fits of laughter. Dean held the glare for a moment longer before his eyes softened and he snorted a soft laugh of his own, nodding slightly and turning to the task at hand.

Sam grinned and sat quietly for a moment, enjoying the solidity of Dean’s shoulder bumping against his own. He’d never once questioned, in the horrific moments after Dean’s death, that he would get his brother back somehow. But he never thought he’d have Dean around to help him, either.

It wasn’t exactly luck, but he was a Winchester, and he figured it was as close as he was ever going to get.

It already seemed like an eternity had passed since yesterday. Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing it to fill him, reaching out to the city, power responding lazily in the early afternoon haze. Even the country air seemed fresher now that Lilith was gone.

He exhaled slowly, drawing the current back in. No demons within 50 miles. He could relax for a moment, just enjoy _being_.

 _Uh – Sam?_

Sam was totally unprepared for the wave of sadness that washed through his awareness. His eyes snapped open in alarm, and he turned his gaze towards Dean to find his brother staring forlornly at the burger, elbows on the table and both hands wrapped gently around the bun.

Sam frowned. _What’s wrong?_

 _We can go now, if you want._ Dean thought, resolutely setting the burger down into the paper wrapper.

Hazel eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?” Sam asked out loud.

Dean actually jumped a little, startled by the sound of Sam’s voice. He pushed back from the table, pressing into the seat of the booth, and ran a hand distractedly through his hair.

He shot Sam a somewhat bitter smile. “Can’t taste it.” His voice was light, but Sam could sense the bitter wash of frustration underneath.

Sam didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He gave Dean a tight nod, smiled sympathetically, and tried to ignore the sick feeling clenching his guts into knots.

 _Dead. Your brother is dead. It’s not alright, nothing is._

At the sudden stricken look on Sam’s face, Dean laughed, elbowing him out of the booth. He shook his head. “Don’t worry, Sammy. We’ll fix it.”

Sam turned towards the trash can, threw the offending meal away, and tried really hard to believe him.

~*~

Sam took comfort in climbing into the passenger’s seat. It was something familiar, something he hadn’t quite realized how much he missed until he had no choice but to drive.

Once they were safely on the road again, and Sam was convinced that Dean wasn’t going to attract anymore unwanted attention, he allowed his thoughts to drift.

A comfortable silence enveloped the car as the miles ticked by. Sam could feel Dean’s deep contentment as he steered the Impala back to Bobby’s place. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and checked for missed calls.

Idle curiosity turned quickly to worry when the screen came up blank.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, not bothering to take his eyes from the road.

“Bobby didn’t call me yesterday,” Sam murmured, hitting the older hunter’s speed dial number and raising the phone to his ear.

 _Singer. Leave a message._

Sam shut the phone with a soft click, hand falling numbly to his side. “Huh.”

“You said he was after some vampires, right?” Dean asked casually, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel.

“Yeah. But he wouldn’t miss a call, Dean.” Sam insisted.

“Maybe he’s closing in on them, needs to keep it quiet for a while.”Dean answered. Sam stared at him, amazed. Dean’s face and body language were completely relaxed, but the undercurrent linking them together was constricting, worry tying his brother up in knots.

Sam blew out a long sigh and looked out the window at the acres of farmland rolling by. Maybe Bobby was busy. Maybe he just forgot to call. _Yeah, right_.

Dean squinted hard out the windshield, staring at the road like he was expecting it to talk to him and give him all the answers. Sam’s inner tension eased as quickly as it came, vanishing as Dean made his decision.

“He tell you where he was?”

~*~

It was the largest nest he’d ever tracked. Smart, too; from the looks of things there were only a few of them, a small group at best, but as Bobby sat in the back of the large abandoned barn and felt his blood slowly replenish itself he tried not to count all the ways he’d been wrong about _that_.

Damn stupid, that’s what he was.

The long row of iron cages bracketing the back wall held at least twelve people, and the ravenous swarm of vampires constantly brought in more prey. Bobby had only been in the cage a day or so by his reckoning, but that was plenty long enough. There were at least thirty members in the nest, and as a victim, the rollover around the place was high.

The air was cooling as the afternoon sun dropped below the horizon when a hush fell over the slowly awakening group. They stood, listening, smelling the wind, and they began to smile. _Hunter_ , the leader whispered.

Bobby’s blood stopped pumping. Sam was the only one who knew where he was. The familiar growl of the Impala’s engine reached his ears, and he groaned, willing the boy away.

Within seconds, the wooden doors flew open. Sam burst in like a whirlwind, and _force_ came with him. Bobby’s muddled mind froze in shock at the feel of the air; tinged with electricity, cold as ice. As one, the bloodthirsty crowd turned to regard the boy, hands curling into claws, fangs descending in anticipation of tasting his blood.

Bobby blinked hard, straining to clear the fog from his eyes. Sam looked unarmed. He tried to call out, but his weakened voice was lost in the swelling roar of the crowd yelling for Sam’s blood.

Sam walked directly into the middle of the crowd, barely sparing them a passing glance. His dark eyes swept over Bobby for a single instant, intensely focused as they checked him, and then they closed.

Bobby loosed a wordless shout as the vampires closed in on Sam as one body, surrounding him completely. “Dammit, Sam, run!” he rasped. He thrashed uselessly against the bars, white spots clouding the edges of his vision as he tried to keep an eye on Sam for one more precious moment, because it seemed like that was all he was going to have before the Winchester family vanished from the damn cursed earth for once and for all.

Bobby stared in horror as Sam’s hands came up from his sides, empty. He spread his arms wide, palms out, never looking at the monsters that threatened to tear him to shreds.

Sam was totally exposed, almost as if he was offering himself to the hoard. Bobby’s stomach clenched, and he almost turned away, but he found he couldn’t. The vampires sensed no threat and lunged, moving lighting fast to take the younger hunter down.

Without even opening his eyes, Sam took a deep breath.

Everything _stopped_.

If Bobby had had a remote, he’d have sworn he accidentally hit the ‘pause’ button. Every vampire, every moving object in the room just _froze_. He felt the muscles in his body clamp down tight under an invisible grip. He struggled weakly, but it was no use.

The crowd of vampires writhed, arms reaching out for Sam, but got nowhere. Their feral eyes widened in disbelief. Sam stood motionless in the center of the ring of monsters, eyes closed tight, arms beginning to tremble with an unseen effort.

Bobby already thought he’d been close to losing his mind, but he tipped right on over the edge when through clenched teeth Sam whispered, “Now, Dean. _Go_.”

The undead didn’t feel the cold, but Bobby did. A surge of ice swept the barn, frosted the iron bars of the cage, seeped into his bones. An aching dread filled him, and he could see the fog of his breath coming in rapid gasps.

There was a flash of motion, a flicker, so fast that Bobby almost didn’t see it, and he wouldn’t have believed it if it weren’t for the fact that the head of the vampire nearest to Sam was lying on the ground, blood pouring out in bursts.

One after another, the monsters began to fall. It seemed that they fell in beat to the pounding of Bobby’s heart in his chest, so fast, so hard to see what was happening. There was no noise but the sudden, eerie wind, no feeling but the cold.

In the center of it all, Sam sank to his knees in the puddle of spilled blood, bowed as if the weight of holding back the vampires was crushing him. Sweat began to pour from his forehead, running down his neck into the damp cotton of his undershirt. His breathing picked up, and he began to shake. “ _Dean_.”

The cry was low and raspy, little more than a gasp for air, but the cold wash of air over Bobby vanished instantly, and he blinked along with the few remaining vampires as the fluid blur of motion came sharply into focus.

Bobby’s jaw dropped and he worked to croak out a cry, but no words could move past the roadblock forming in his throat.

Dean’s face was livid with rage, and his shoulders rolled with effortless power as he stalked the circle; brutal, efficient slashes of the machete in his hand finishing off the nest’s occupants. As he went, he cast sparing glances towards Sam, and Sam’s face seemed to relax, even though Dean never spoke a word.

 _Slash_. Eyes cast to Sam. _Slash_. Check on Sam. The last vampire fell hard, and Dean lowered the blade, throwing it forcefully to the blood-soaked hay. He nodded once, tightly, as though giving confirmation the job was done.

Sam shuddered, letting out a long, explosive breath, and slumped immediately to the floor. Dean, solid and whole, was at his side in an instant. “Hey, look at me. Sam. Sammy?”

“I’m ok. Get Bobby.” Sam was breathing heavily, like he just ran a marathon.

Or maybe like he just froze thirty vampires with just the power of his mind.

Dean moved away from Sam reluctantly, and finally his eyes met Bobby’s. The chill at the base of Bobby’s spine intensified, but the green in those eyes, the sheepish _well-I-guess-you-caught-me_ grin, those were all _Dean_.

“Hey, Bobby,” Dean whispered, moving towards the cage. He stopped just outside of arm’s reach, studying the iron with an exasperated look on his face. “Dammit. Sam? A little help here?” Behind him, Sam stood slowly to his feet, waving a hand in Dean’s direction. Dean turned his attention back to Bobby. “You ok?”

Bobby’s breath finally caught up with him, but he was interrupted before he could even start to yell by the youngest Winchester, who had dropped down right in front of his face and was glaring at him with a look he couldn’t put a name to.

“Don’t even think about it,” Sam growled.

“Boy, I oughta –“

“That wouldn’t be very wise of you.” Sam retorted.

Dean grabbed the back of Sam’s jacket and hauled him up, spinning him around face to face. “Sam, what the hell?”

Sam stood firm, stepping between Bobby and Dean. “He doesn’t understand, Dean. You’re a _revenant._ What did you think he was gonna say?”

Bobby blinked in surprise at how easily he’d gotten confirmation. Sam knelt back down beside the iron door, his voice pitched low, pleading. “I needed him, Bobby. I needed him, and he stayed. And I should have told you before, I know. I’m sorry. But we’re almost there, we’re halfway there, ok? Just give us some time. Please?”

Bobby thought that he seriously needed to look up some kind of charm that would protect him from that boy’s damned puppy eyes. He cleared his throat, studied the hay instead. “What do you mean, halfway there?”

“Lilith’s dead, man. Sam tracked her down – and I killed her. The deal’s broken.” Dean’s whispered voice flowed over the older man like cold shards of ice. Bobby looked to Sam in disbelief.

“So you’re a real psychic now, are ya?” He smiled weakly, knowing that Sam would see it for what it was; an honest effort not to lose his temper.

Sam smiled back, but something in his gaze was hard, warning. Sam’s face stilled in concentration, and with a loud wrenching sound, the iron door pulled loose from the cage.

“Yeah. I guess I am.”

~*~

Bobby helped Sam evacuate the other victims before getting down to the clean-up. Dean hovered at the edge of Bobby’s senses, keeping his space out of respect, maybe. Or maybe even as a revenant, Dean still had a shred of common sense.

“What should we – yeah. You’re prolly right. I’ll get the kerosene.” Sam was holding one-sided conversations like it happened every day, and Bobby couldn’t shake the crawling feeling in his bones.

Sam headed out to the Impala, but not before fixing Bobby with a level stare, point very well implied, thank-you-very-much.

Bobby had just finished lugging the last body into the burning pile when Dean popped up right in front of his face, nearly giving him a heart attack in the process. Dean – _no, not Dean, dammit, a spirit,_ \- looked furious. He blurted out three words, “We’ve got trouble,” and vanished.

~*~

Dean stopped cold just past the splintered barn doors, staring. Sam was facing the tree line, his eyes locked on six figures approaching from the woods. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his right hand flew to the bridge of his nose, rubbing there like he was in pain.

Dean rushed forward, gripping him by the shoulders, bracing him. “Sam?”

Before Sam had a chance to reply, the shorter blond man in the center of the group stepped forward, voice raised loud enough to carry through the dark. “That you, Sammy? Thanks for the broadcast, thought we’d never find you.” The low, oily voice gurgled and rasped, and in the dark, Dean’s heightened senses could see the slick-shine of blood dripping down from the man’s deeply slit throat.

Sam growled, feral, and still clutching his head with one hand, he threw out his other hand in defiance. His weight shifted dangerously. Dean stepped underneath his open side to steady him, cry of protest sticking in his throat like glue.

The light of Sam’s power was flaring outward, pushing back against the approaching demons, moving in slow spirals from the tips of his fingers. The dark taint of Azazel’s blood trailed along, running counterpoint to the light in a twisted swirl.

The six figures slowed, uncertainty on their faces, almost as though they were moving through water. Dean watched, horrified, as an opposing dark force spread out from the group, meeting Sam’s light and pushing it slowly back.

Sam gasped for air. Already exhausted, his defenses were crumbling rapidly. _I can’t hold them, I. Dean._ Sam’s thoughts were fragmented and fuzzy, not so much flowing across the connection as buzzing around it. _H..help me._ He cried out once more, and a strong surge burst forward from his fingertips, regaining precious ground.

Immediately both hands flew to his head, and Dean barely caught him as he collapsed gracelessly to the dirt.

“Sam, talk to me man, how can I –“

“Hold them back,” Sam gasped, redirecting his left hand to fist the front of Dean’s jacket. “Keep, mmm.” Heavy, shaky breath. “Keep them still.”

Dean thought he could maybe figure out what that meant, if he had time to think about it and they weren’t all about to get killed, or, ok, if Sam and Bobby weren’t about to get killed; but instead he reached into Sam’s jacket pocket, came up empty, and starting checking the waistline of his jeans. He allowed himself a quick glace. The demons were moving swiftly now, and Dean could see Sam’s light flickering and going out, giving in to the demon’s dark Serge.

Sam wasn’t so out of it he didn’t swat Dean’s hand away. “What’re you doin’?” He slurred indignantly. “ _Demons_ , Dean!” Releasing his brother, he gestured grandly towards the advancing group. Dean rolled his eyes and gripped Sam’s face hard, demanding his attention.

“Where’s the _knife_ , moron,” Dean snarled. Comprehension dawned bright in Sam’s pain-damped eyes, but the look on his face told Dean all he needed to know. He didn’t have it. “Dammit, Sammy, I don’t know how to … do what you do.” He whispered frantically.

As soon as the admission left his lips, Sam yanked hard on his jacket, tugging Dean forcefully down onto the ground with him. Sam refocused his attention on the demons, but inside Dean felt Sam clearly across the link. Sam’s presence was weakened and pained, but underneath, his brother’s will was iron. The sharp edges of Sam’s power flared through Dean’s arm as Sam grabbed his hand and directed it outward, using Dean as a conduit. _Push_ , Sam commanded, and, drawing on his fear and rage, Dean did.

Sam’s light filled Dean instantly, and with a single thought Dean released the power. It rushed across the field on revanant’s wind; leaving frost on the tips of the grass blades and turning the humid air to fog.

The blanket of black shadow surrounding the advancing demons was washed away, and the demons froze in place as the light entrapped them, wrapping glowing chains around them and holding them fast.

Sam took a breath of fresh air, lines of tension in his face easing as he let Dean share the burden. The shaking in his muscles quieted, and he stood smoothly. Focusing on controlling the telekinetic field in his command, Dean didn’t have time to shiver at the deadly look in Sam’s eyes.

The demons howled and writhed in his hold, but the light stood firm. Their indignant cries turned to terror as Sam moved closer, the void inside him flaring outward viciously. Free now from the restraining power of the light, the demon’s tainted blood rushed forward eagerly. Underneath, through their link, Dean felt blood lust and hatred, and he was suddenly afraid.

 _Sam, be careful._

Sam eyed the demons almost with disinterest. “So you were looking for me?” Sam purred, a rattlesnake’s strike. “Too bad for you.”

As one the demon’s hosts doubled over, retching violently. Slowly, the foul black smoke of possession flowed from every orifice, falling like soot to the ground, swirling in panic at Sam’s inexorable pull.

Sam gave one final push, heady with the power. The final traces of black smoke seeped into the grass, flames rushing up to claim the remnants as the demons were dragged screaming into the Pit.

Dean stared in awe as the flames died, barely aware of the sound of Bobby running out to meet them. He turned to Sam, ready with congratulations, and froze in horror.

Sam’s hazel eyes were rimmed with yellow. The light of Sam’s own power was spent, and all around him, the pulsing aura of darkness remained. Inside, Dean couldn’t grasp his presence. Sam’s gaze was stricken, and he raised a trembling hand to his brother in a wordless plea. Everything slowed as Dean opened his mouth to yell, but it was too late.

Sam fell, deep inside himself, and the darkness followed him down. The light in his eyes faded well before his legs gave out, and he collapsed silently into the grass at Dean’s feet.

Bobby’s voice seemed far away as Dean followed Sam to the ground. He stopped the man’s movement with little more than a stray thought and he looked up to meet his gaze, apology in his eyes. “It’s his powers. The dark side … it’s taking him over.”

“Jesus,” Bobby breathed, casting his eyes back and forth between them.

“I know you hate this, but you gotta trust me. I need to go in there. He’s … he’s drowning.” Dean ignored the way his voice cracked on the last word, and felt a pathetic rush of gratitude when Bobby did the same.

“You ain’t gonna …” Bobby trailed off, question dying on the night air.

“I won’t hurt him. I swear.” Dean’s second sight searched deep. The black, inky essence of the yellow-eyed demon was surrounding his brother, and he didn’t have any more time to waste. “I could use a lookout, otherwise stay out of my way.” He said.

Dean’s eyes held no room for argument, and Bobby unconsciously shrank back from the intensity of his glare. Dean moved forward and leaned down, lifting Sam easily in his arms like he didn’t weigh a damn thing. Dean stood, one arm beneath Sam’s knees and one wrapped carefully around his neck and shoulders, cradling him as his head lolled loosely to the side.

“You comin’ or what?”

Dean walked to the edge of the property and laid Sam gently on a rough wooden picnic table near the treeline. Bobby fidgeted on the edges of his senses, but Dean shut him out. He sat down on the bench seat, rested the palm of his hand on Sam’s forehead, and vanished.

Dean moved smoothly, a wraith on another plane, searching. He heard nothing, saw nothing with his heightened senses. But _Sam_ was all around him, echoing inside his consciousness. His brother was enslaved, centered somewhere in the heart of this mire, and Dean followed his silent screams to where the darkness was the thickest, never wavering in his search.

 _Sammy,_ he sent, _I’m coming._

There was no reply, but as Dean focused, on the edge of the blind abyss there was a pulse of light. Where Sam’s power was pure and wholesome, this new light was a tainted yellow, diseased and frail; the mark of a demon.

Dean barely thought to move towards the glimmer and suddenly he was there. Sam lay heavily in the center of what seemed to be a fight for dominance between the sickly yellow gleam and the consuming swirl of black mist.

The darkness leached into Sam’s soul like a cancer, choking it, smothering it until the glow it gave was negligibly dim. The writhing bands were like a tangible thing, gripping and twisting around Sam, leeching his life force with an inexorable determination.

 _Sammy_ , Dean pleaded, kneeling mesmerized at his brother’s side. _Can you hear me?_ He reached out his hand to his brother, waving the mist away.

The mist was ice cold, burning. It sunk happily into his spirit, and in the back of his throat he could taste the acid tang of _failure_ , the bitter wash of _loss_. The feelings washed over him, threatening to drown him. Below, Sam cried out suddenly, thrashing within the bonds of his own worst memories.

 _Pain. Grief. Helplessness._

The bands constricted, dimming even more of Sam’s fragile soul, melting into him like acid.

 _Anger. Failure. Cowardice._

Turning him into a demon.

Dean lunged then, past the mist, past a lifetime of blood and pain, and clutched frantically at the one thing in the world he’d sworn to never let go of.

Beneath the malevolent, searing stain, the pale light was warm in his grasp as he wrapped his arms around Sam in defiance.

 _Sammy, listen to me. You can fight this. WE can. We can fight it together._

Sam’s eyes screwed shut even tighter, and a low groan escaped his lips. Pain and despair radiated from him in waves, and he struggled against Dean’s hold, seeing monsters.

 _Sam,_

Dean pressed, _you have to let go of this crap, man. What happened to me wasn’t your fault. Jess wasn’t your fault. This life, Mom, all of it – none of it was your fault. Don’t let him win, you hear me? He’s DEAD, Sam. He can’t hurt you anymore!_

Sam thrashed harder, nearly dislodging Dean’s hold. The faintest impression of his brother’s voice echoed across the link.

 _Cursed._

Dean pulled back, hauling Sam into a sitting position, ignoring the way the dark chains cut into his skin. Dean adjusted his grip, throwing on a gentle but effective arm bar. Sam’s struggling stopped at the new pressure. _No, Sam. You’re not._

 _Sorry._

 _Sam –_

Dean leaned in close, throwing his free hand over Sam’s shoulder and resting it over his frantically beating heart. The dim light surged at his touch, and a wave of _Sam_ washed over him, lessening the bitter chill of death. _THIS. This is what you are._ He pressed firmly to Sam’s chest, absorbing the light, allowing Sam’s essence to roll through him, filtering it all back twice as strong.

 _Gentleness.Faith.Trust._

 _You feel that?_

 _Loyalty.Strength. Love._

Dean felt Sam’s muscles relax a fraction, and he risked releasing his brother’s hands. When Sam made no move to struggle, Dean went to work on the dark bands constricting Sam’s soul. Beneath the ephemeral mist, the demonic taint was solid, hard as steel. Dean gripped the closest band firmly, spirit contacting spirit, and _pulled_.

Sam cried out, whimpering at the scalding tug. His eyes flew open, and when he turned his head to seek his brother, Dean could see that all of the hazel green was gone. _No, Sammy, c’mon, dammit,_ fight!

“D …Dean?” Sam stuttered, and the fragile light inside surged brightly. The band in Dean’s hand ripped and loosened, and with a triumphant yell, Dean pulled it free.

He tossed it away. _Good,_ he soothed. _Now the rest. Come on._ The restraining dark skittered away from his fingers, writhing like a limb cut from a reptile in the thick mist of Sam’s mind, and vanished. Encouraged, Dean reached for Sam again.

“Dean,” Sam gasped. “It _burns_.”

 _I know, kiddo._

At the sound of Dean’s voice, the light burned brighter, spreading warmth through Dean’s frigid hands. Sam’s breathing eased as the darkness lost its hold.

“Power … inside me, I can’t …” Sam’s soul began to shine, building strength. The mist around them started to dissipate. The sudden shift left Dean reeling. Everything went from too cold to far too _hot_.

 _Yes, you can. You_ can _, Sam. It’s_ your _power now. Not his. Use it._

Sam clutched his chest, pushing Dean’s hand away. “Get out, Dean, go!” He pleaded.

 _Wha –_

The light was blinding, surging forward forcefully. Dean was pushed back by the shock wave. He couldn’t see, and he could barely hear Sam’s voice. “Run!”

~*~

Dean landed with a _thump_ flat on his back on the ground next to the picnic table, but looking undignified was the least of his worries. He moved quickly to his brother’s side.

Dean frowned as he searched Sam with his senses. On the second plane, the bright, pure light of Sam’s power wreathed him like a shroud, pulsing steadily with the beat of his heart. The darkness inside was gone.

Sam took a deep breath, groaning.

 _Sammy? You in there?_

Sam’s eyes opened, and without Azazel’s evil taint, Dean could see that they weren’t sickly or yellow at all.

They were Heaven’s burning gold.

Dean edged closer, awed. “Sammy?”

Sam radiated pure light, smooth and rich like silk and honey. The waves of his power were strong and sure. He smiled. “Come on,” he whispered, reaching out his hand. “We have somewhere to be.”

~*~

“Man, I’ve never seen Bobby so pissed.”

“He’s entitled, Dean. I never should have lied to him.”

“He’ll cool down in a few days. Or, you know. Kill us.”

“Ha, ha. Lucky for _you_ I have a handle on this thing now, or you’d be full of rock salt as we speak, revenant boy.”

“Speakin’ of that, could you tone down the _shining_? It’s like Close Encounters in here.”

“You could drive faster.”

“Now you’re talking, Sammy. Now you’re talking.”

~*~

It was dark again when they reached the field where Dean lay sleeping. Dean shuffled nervously in Sam’s periphery; Sam only smiled. _Dean. Relax, it’s time._

 _How are you gon…_

Sam turned and looked him straight in the eyes. Dean’s uncertainly clashed sharply with his need, his desire to live again. Underneath the illusion of wholeness, Sam saw the blood and stain of death on his brother’s spirit. But even deeper than that, Sam could see Dean’s soul. It shone brighter than any power, and it was time to call it home.

“Dean,” he said aloud, commanding attention, holding out his hand. “Do you trust me?”

The bitter undercurrent of Dean’s fear vanished. A smiled played at the corner of his lips, and he eyed Sam’s hand warily. “We gotta hold hands?”

Sam rolled his golden eyes. “You want to end up in the wrong body? It’s not like I’ve done this before, you know.”

Dean grabbed Sam’s hand immediately. “Sam, please. Whatever you do … don’t make me a chick.”

Sam grinned, squeezing Dean’s hand in reassurance. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured. “You’re high maintenance enough.”

Sam breathed deeply of the cool night air, Dean’s presence like electricity at his side.He faced the loose earth solemnly. When he closed his eyes and raised his right hand, it was steady and sure.

The black void inside was gone, and golden fire filled the empty space. It surged upward, responding to Sam’s silent call. It flowed from his fingertips in gentle waves, and a smile played at the corners of his lips as he felt the earth part, responding to his request.

Shrouded carefully in tattered and rotting blankets, Dean’s body began to rise.

Focusing on every object, every _particle_ under his control, it was impossible to miss Dean’s hissed swearing. Gripping his brother’s hand even tighter, Sam used the motion to project his total confidence. _Don’t look, Dean. I don’t want you to see this._

Dean nodded, only too glad to turn his eyes away.

 _You with me?_

 _Yeah, Sammy. Always._

Sam grinned fiercely, unearthly eyes piercing the veil of the night as he stepped swiftly to his fallen brother’s side. His fingers entwined with the revenant’s hand on the left, and he reached gently towards the ruined corpse with his right. He didn’t stop to regard the vessel’s state; it wasn’t important. It wasn’t _alive_.

Sam pulled the tattered blankets free, dropping them back into the earth below. In answer, the ground shook and the rift closed seamlessly, swallowing any evidence that there had ever been a grave at all.

Sam held his breath, reaching with the power to strip what was left of Dean’s clothes away.

On his left, Dean shuddered, rolling into Sam’s shoulder, hiding his face. Sam tightened his grip until his knuckles burned, allowing Dean to draw from his warmth. His right hand passed gently over his brother’s mangled body, spears of liquid gold dancing across the surface. Sam _wanted_ , like he’d never wanted anything before, and the power caught his desire and made it true.

Sam’s chest tightened in anticipation as the chain reaction began.

From deep inside, muscles and organs swelled again with moisture. Tissues knit seamlessly together. This time, Sam was confident. This time, he wasn’t going to let his brother down.

Slowly, but with undeniable certainty, the floating vessel became whole again.

Dean was tense in the fold of his arm, but he relaxed by degrees as felt Sam’s confidence grow. Sam draped a fresh blanket over the empty shell, affording Dean what privacy he could. He let out a deep, careful breath. _You can look now._

Dean unfolded himself slowly, careful not to lose the iron grip he had on Sam’s hand. Sam watched with concern as Dean’s eyes swept over the body, coming to rest on the bare skin of his chest. Dean’s hand trembled slightly inside Sam’s fingers. Sam squeezed, one pulse. _You ok?_

 _Those … scars. From the hellhounds._

Sam’s light intensified from his shining palm. _Not anymore._ But as he moved, a surge of panic washed through him, and he faltered mid-reach, questioning.

 _Dean?_

 _No, I … Leave them._

Sam’s throat tightened. _Dean, you don’t have –_

 _Please._

The answering squeeze told Sam his brother meant business. He nodded, not trusting his thoughts to words. Dean’s presence had become calm, and Sam felt his brother’s eagerness bubbling up through his own uncertainty.

 _We good?_

Sam smiled. _One thing’s missing._

 _What?_

 _Life._

The body in front of them was Dean’s body, but it wasn’t _Dean._ It was no more than a shell; a housing. It had no vitality. Less than one day before, Dean had held Sam’s soul in his hands, fused them on the deepest level, and called Sam home. Now it was Sam’s turn, but things were much more physical this time around. Sam traced the scar over his brother’s waiting heart.

The smooth, pale skin parted underneath his power as easily as the earth had. He held his hand steadily over the opening, feeling somewhat detached as, with barely a thought, he lay open his wrist and set the red current free.

 _The HELL, SAM!_

Sam laughed out loud, shaking his head. Didn’t Dean know he was invincible?

 _Relax. We’re a perfect match._

Sam’s blood flowed steadily, the seconds ticking by pulse by pulse. He waited as long as he dared, filling the inner chambers, before calling the power again. He closed the gap left behind, smiling in satisfaction as Dean’s skin knit together smoothly, leaving no trace of damage. With careful, precise bursts, he set Dean’s heart in motion. The short supply of blood began to move, and as it moved, it replicated at high speeds, driven forward by Sam’s unyielding will.

Almost as an afterthought Sam healed himself as well. He held his wrist out to his brother, waggling his fingers.

 _See?_

Dean stared for a long moment before knitting his eyebrows into a frown.

 _Remind me we’re gonna have to talk about this later._

Sam laughed, free and easy. _You ready for this?_

Dean’s anticipation was staggering, blowing through Sam like a gale force wind.

 _Oh, Hell yes._

Sam sent his power wide, expanding it until the light encompassed everything. Nothing in the small field was out of his control, nothing escaped his notice. He didn’t need to steady himself; he didn’t hesitate one second longer. He placed his right hand firmly against Dean’s faintly beating heart and closed his eyes.

 _Dean._

The word was a command, an order far stronger than any of his father’s had ever been.

 _Come home._

Dean’s soul jumped at the call, leaping free of the revenant’s prison. The rough form left behind crumbled like dust and blew away on the light night wind. The soul took the blinding shape of a person, pulling away from the Earth with an astonishing burst of speed.

The sparkling net of Sam’s power folded, grasping his brother and pulling him close. Sam was assaulted by Dean’s essence as all the pieces flowed as one through his spirit, connecting with his power through the link. Fierce loyalty, love and sacrifice, pain and will, laughter and tears overlapped in rapid succession.

Gone was the icy chill of death. Dean’s burning soul lit the field, flaring like a comet.

Sam tasted the salt of his own tears as he laughed, filled with Dean’s wild abandon, swelling to burst with the second-hand sensation of _freedom_. He wanted to let his brother soar, he wanted to fly with him to a better place; a safe place.

Sam lowered Dean’s body gently to smooth earth and knelt beside him, frozen in sudden uncertainty. He’d been selfish too much in his life. It ran in the family, but it was time to end it. This needed to be Dean’s choice.

Sam relished in the feel of Dean’s presence for one single moment. He fleetingly hoped that Dean couldn’t sense his decision. He wrapped his arms tight around his chest and drew back hard, severing the current at the source - setting the last of his family free.

Both the pure, blinding light and the bolstering heat vanished in an instant, and the wash of the last vestiges of Sam’s power rustled the trees as the fire inside was extinguished.

The sudden silence was deafening, both inside and out. Sam resisted the temptation to search the field for his brother’s presence. He didn’t know what he would do if it was gone. He kept his eyes closed, feeling the faint pulse of his brother’s heartbeat, waiting.

“S –Sam?” Dean’s chest surged under Sam’s touch, and all of the tension in Sam’s body just _left_.

“Dean!” Sam’s eyes flew open to see Dean’s green ones staring back intently, Dean’s hands shaking as he edged up on his elbows to get a better look.

Sam beamed, but inside, the link was strangely quiet. He stared at Dean with a feeling like awe, and noticed that Dean seemed to be just as lost for words. Slowly, never breaking eye contact, Dean grabbed Sam’s hand and levered up into a sitting position, sweating a little with the effort.

“You ok?” Sam whispered, hovering.

Dean blinked, like he wasn’t expecting Sam’s voice to only come from the outside. His eyes narrowed, and before Sam could move out of range, Dean cuffed him soundly on the side of his head.

“What was _that_ for!?” Sam yelped.

“Dude. If you wanted me to go into the light, you coulda just told me!” he snapped, finally looking away to grab a firmer hold on the blanket, pulling it up more securely around his waist.

“What? No! I –“ Sam stopped short, realizing that he wished Dean could feel what he’d been feeling, the ecstasy of flight, the way the light was calling his brother home, how he just wanted what was best for him. “Dean, I just –“

“You let go.” Dean said smoothly. Sam nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. Dean sighed, eyes far away, remembering the feel of the pull. He took in the sight of his little brother, so powerful and needy all at once, still just _Sammy_ underneath the glow, eyes faded back to normal and swelling full of tears, and smiled. “Bitch. Like I’d ever pick some glow-ball over you,”he said.

“ _Dean,_ ” Sam choked, throwing his long arms around his brother, laughter bubbling up from deep inside. Dean gripped him back firmly, noticing the weakness in his arms. He would need to rest a while. Maybe a long while.

“You ok? You donated a lot of blood back there,” he mumbled as he gently pried Sam lose. Manly hugging was ok whenever someone came back from the dead, but Dean had his limits, and he didn’t have a _shirt_ , for crying out loud.

Sam nodded, rolling his eyes. “I told you, I’m _fine._ What about you, any pain?” Sam’s eyes roamed everywhere, tightening at the corners as they crossed the small raised edges of skin on Dean’s chest. He wasn’t sure what to think about them; the scars of his brother’s sacrifice, worn plainly on his heart like a badge of honor.

Dean shook his head, but then he paused, eyes going wide with realization. “Oh God,” he gasped.

“What?” Sam’s hands flew to Dean’s shoulders, worried gaze searching.

Dean smirked. “I just realized - have Sam cooties.”

Sam blinked in disbelief, mouth working wordlessly. Back two minutes, and Dean was already being … well, he was being _Dean_. “Shut up,” Sam managed, moving to help his brother stand.

“Make me,” Dean retorted, taking Sam’s offered arm for support.

They moved towards the car slowly, taking their time, softly jostling each other as they went. Sam’s smile shone brightly in the early morning dawn. Dean sank gratefully into the passenger’s seat, and neither of them looked back.

~*~

Dean punched the number in slow, even though he knew it was in the speed dial. He really wasn’t looking forward to this conversation, but there was no putting it off. It barely rang once before the voice on the other end picked up. He sounded furious.

“Well?”

Dean winced, tossed the pained look at Sam. “Hey, Bobby.”

“ _Dean?”_

“Yeah. I’m – we did it, man. Sam did. I’m back – for real this time.” He laughed weakly, hoping maybe …

“You … you’re both _grounded_!”

Sam’s grin punctuated the long pause, and he swiped the phone smoothly from Dean, leaving him to gape at the empty space where it used to be.

“Hey Bobby, its Sam.”

Pause.

“Yeah, I know I do. “

Frown.

“I don’t expect you to –“

Sam’s frown hardened into steel, and the edge of it seeped into his voice.

“No, I’m _not_. And I won’t apolo –“

Sam quieted, and Dean waited impatiently, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Sam flushed, a shy smile creeping into the edges of his lips. He seemed to relax fractionally, and he nodded.

“Yeah, ok. Listen, we’re gonna lay low for a –“

Sam laughed then, and Dean found himself grinning at the sound.

“You too Bobby, ‘bye.”

Sam snapped the phone shut and tossed it back to Dean, shaking his head as he turned towards the car.

“Well? What’d he say?”

Sam stepped up to the passenger seat and opened the door. He drew his eyebrows down in mock seriousness, but there was still laughter in his voice. “Said we’re grounded.”

Dean nodded gravely. “Well then. Guess we’d better move.”

~*~

“Oh, sweetheart, you just saved my life.” Dean drawled, accepting the plate and blasting his 100-watt smile directly at the rapidly melting waitress. As predicted, she nodded weakly and walked back towards the kitchen like her knees had just turned to jelly.

Sam huffed loudly. “Don’t call me sweetheart, jackass.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh, come – fine, control freak.” He shot his brother a sarcastic smile. “Thank you, _Sam_ , for saving my life.”

Sam grinned. “You’re welcome. Now – do you two wanna be alone?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, you know you like to watch. Besides, I’m makin’ history here. They’re gonna put me on the wall of fame.” He jerked his thumb to the cork board in the back of the diner. It was outrageously decorated, and featured pictures of all of the conquerors of the two-pound burger challenge.

“Dean, I swear, you have a food-related death wish.” Sam admonished.

Dean laughed. “Yeah, well, some things are just worth dying for, I guess.”

Sam stilled as Dean glanced from the plate to catch his gaze. His brother was hidden back behind his walls, doors locked and bolts thrown firmly back into place, but Sam read the intent behind Dean’s words loud and clear anyway.

For one fragile instant, the spell held. Then the moment was gone, and Dean dove into the hamburger with an intensity and focus that he usually reserved for killing things.

Sam smiled softly to himself, took a deep breath, made a face, and said, “Dean? I think I’m gonna puke.”


End file.
